He felt so fucking wrong and I kept saying no everytime he'd thrust his hips, I felt like in my life this was the first time I seriously wanted to die because I had never felt this terrible in my life.

I was raped by a Fraternity man who I was actually very close friends with. I knew the majority of the men in the Frat and had spent every day with them for months. I considered them to be some of my closest friends. I had told this one particular man that I did not ever plan on hooking up with him.

When I was 8 a boy that was 10 touched my butt almost everyday.When I was 9 that same boy in my class shoved me into a corner and shoved his hand into my shirt.Right now I am still scared of anything potentially happening.

He sexually assaulted me several times within a month. I've only told one person what happened to me.
I know this wasn't my fault. However I wish I had been smarter and more cautious. I still have nightmares about being assaulted. Thank god I do not have contact with him anymore.

"There are other things we can do besides sex" he said. But that's where he was wrong. When I said no sex, I meant I didn't want to be sexual with him. In any way. I wanted to innocently flirt, hold hands, and cuddle on his couch. He saw it as a line crossed when his penis entered my vagina. I saw it as a continuum. It's not, Everything But. It's encompassing all sexual acts. The pressuring to feel my breasts, to take off my pants, those all fall under the continuum of "Sexual." I didn't want any of it.

In the light of morning, with a pounding head and dry mouth, I woke to find a hand touching me. I rolled over to find a man who was only vaguely familiar, but definitely not someone I knew. I didn’t even know his first name, let alone his last.

I may say to many that night was a blur but I vividly remember every single detail: his laugh when I told him I wasn’t ready for it, him telling me that I looked sexy in my dress and that I wore it for a reason.

This night ends with the memory of running. running as fast and as far as I could. getting on the bus, finding my way home. showering. trying to feel "clean" again. a "clean" that I fear I will never experience again.

Rape is rape is rape. And you don’t owe anyone (including your boyfriend) anything. I told you I didn’t want to have sex those nights, yet you got on top of me, my face was down and I was in tears. I bit my lip so you wouldn’t make fun of me or yell at me for crying.

Now I had new nightmares; it wasn’t just him touching me, him hitting, punching, kicking, whipping, wasn’t just him putting things inside me, tying me so I wouldn’t move. There were others. And he would tell them where to hit me, when and where to touch me, what to put inside me.

I would tell her I am not well or now is not the right time. She would ignore my plea and play with my penis. I would many times tell her to stop but she would then come on top of me. I would tell her to get off and to keep me quiet she would cover my mouth with her hand to keep me from talking.

I tried to kick and tried to pry my hands free but he only gripped harder. The moment he inserted himself inside me, my entire body went limp. I became a dead fish and stopped fighting. It was as if a part of my soul had died.

She found me in my unclothed, paralyzed state and pulled me to ‘safety’ in a muddled manner. No questions asked we just left the party. The next day I reflected on that night and saw it as a personal failure.

He got off of me, pulled his pants up and I still say there frozen. Eventually I got up to put my clothes on and got off the bed. He was looking at me in shock and I broke down in tears and said you raped me.

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